


Know It All

by SweetTale4u



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetTale4u/pseuds/SweetTale4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He underestimates her once again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know It All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [articcat621](https://archiveofourown.org/users/articcat621/gifts), [araeofsomething](https://archiveofourown.org/users/araeofsomething/gifts), [Onecelestialbeing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onecelestialbeing/gifts).



 

She was cold and hungry. They had been on the run for so long with nothing to show for it. In no way were they any closer to finding the missing pieces to the complicated puzzle Dumbledore had left them. The leaves crunched underfoot and she looked around into the dark night, her breath hung in the cold air as she pondered what lay beyond the darkness.

She felt someone caress the carefully crafted wards she had put up all around the small camp site and she waited to see if it was Ronald that had returned to them. She could hear slight sounds, soft footsteps but no matter how hard she tried, she could not see where they were coming from. They seem to be all around her at once and she wondered slightly if she had finally gone mad from lack of sleep and food. Then she felt it, the soft caress of long robes against the side of her leg.

“Who’s there?”

There was no answer but she could feel the hot breath on her skin.

“Are you afraid?”

She stepped back, her back against a large tree that stood at the base of their camp. Its large trunk and long limbs painted the area with dancing shadows in the light of the full moon. She felt the warm breath caress her face and move to hover over the shell of her ear. Pressed against her was the warm body of a man. The voice itself belonged to someone she had heard speak for the last six years: the traitor, the murderer, the man that haunted her adolescent dreams, Severus Snape.

“No,” she answered, her voice calm. She could hear a small snicker escape his mouth but could see nothing but a dark shadow move before her eyes. The magic that kept him hidden shifted slightly and she could see the dark outline of his form as he moved closer to her, trapping her between his lean body and the rough bark of the old tree. Steadying herself and taking a deep breath she waited to hear what he would say.

“Your body tells me otherwise _Hermione_ , I am a death eater, you should be afraid.”

She had never heard the man say her name, it was as if he had never even known what it was, the sound of it reverberated in her taut muscles and she felt her knees weaken slightly. Closing her eyes hard against the night she took a moment to savor the sound and smell of this man that had occupied so many of her errant thoughts. He smelled of coffee and cigarettes and she loved the way it caressed her senses.

“Why are you here?” She tried to sound calm but her voice faltered. Had she given herself away while at school? Did he know how she had wished for this moment?

His movements halted but he did not pull away from her, his finger had wrapped around an escaped curl and he tugged on it hard. A hiss escaped her mouth and she bit her lip hard to keep from moaning. He seemed to take forever to answer her, she could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest against hers and the tight hardness pressed against her thighs.  

“Because I am already condemned to hell, why not add to the sentence.”

He could not mean what she thought he did and she held her breath as he leaned in closer to her ear.

“Are you afraid now, Hermione?”

“You don’t mean that. You can’t possibly mean to harm me?”

Placing a hand on either side of her face and grinding himself further into her, her legs opening as if on instinct, he chuckled slightly as she inhaled sharply.

“Does that feel like I want to harm you Hermione? For a know-it-all it seems you don’t know much.”

There was that deep ache between her legs again. She had felt it so many times when she first discovered what it meant to really desire someone. Warmth flooded her knickers and she feared he would smell her arousal. It was wrong, so wrong to feel like this, especially about him. No one, not Ron, not even Viktor had made her feel like this. She moved slightly against him, needing the purchase, something anything to dull that ache.

“So the swot does know what she wants.”

She could almost hear his eyebrow arching in the dark night.

“Remove the charm, I want to see you.” She was surprised by her own boldness.

“Most women prefer not to see my face; it is not my most prized feature.”

“I’m not most women, am I Professor?”

He chuckled and a moment later he shimmered into view.

“You are barely a woman Hermione.”

“Really professor, this doesn’t feel like I’m not a woman.” She ran her leg down the front of his trousers, feeling the hardness beneath. She didn’t know where the boldness came from but she knew if she didn’t do something soon she would lose her mind with want.

Hissing loudly at the contact and grabbing a handful of her hair he exposed her neck to his questing mouth. “Careful witch, you don’t know what you are asking for.”

She quivered at the sound of his voice at her ear and his tongue on her neck. He tasted the salty skin of collarbone as he ripped open her shirt.

“I’m not asking,” she whispered as he buried that especially large nose between her breasts. Releasing her hair he used both hands to press her breasts together and inhale her scent, his tongue darting out to taste her skin. Her hands shot out and pressed his face closer to her, her fingers buried deep in his long silky hair as she scraped her nails slightly against his head eliciting the most delicious moan.

“You depraved minx,” he ripped her bra exposing her flesh to the cold night air. His large hands covered her breasts as his lower body pushed her further onto his confined hardness. She wrapped her leg around his thigh pulling him closer as his tongue drew circles around her hardened nipples.

“Just as depraved as you are,” she answered her voice barely audible as his mouth sucked on her nipple and his teeth nibbled each peak.

“I knew you would be, always so eager to please me. Why only me Hermione? Why the dark potions master Miss Granger? Is this why?” He took her hand and placed it against his cock and she squeezed it, answering his question without words.

He stepped back from her and she immediately felt bereft of his weight against her. He was breathing heavily; she could see his breath as it danced in the cold night air. He looked at her and she felt as naked as she wished to be.

“Take them off.”

Her fingers moved quickly to the button of her jeans only to be stopped by his voice again.

“Slowly…”

She moved slower, her impatience and need growing by the second as his eyes moved over her body as inch by inch it came into view. When she had removed her jeans she waited awkwardly for him to tell her what to do. She looked up at the sound of a lighter flicking open, she watched with apt attention as he lit a fag and took a deep drag as he just watched her. She didn’t feel the cold air, all she felt were his eyes devouring every inch of her exposed flesh.  

With the cigarette still between his long fingers he motioned for her to remove her knickers.

“Everything, Miss Granger.”

His eyes widened as she removed the last remaining piece of fabric. With a final pull on his cigarette he moved towards her and as he flicked it away he leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “I’m going to feast on your cunt Miss Granger, and then if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll fuck you too.”

She wanted to respond, to tell him to fuck off but she was incapable of sound.

“Nothing to say? Seems I finally found a way to shut that mouth of yours. Let’s see if we can’t change that, huh Miss Granger?” With that he knelt and pulled her legs over his strong shoulders, her back supported only by the tree and his hands at her arse.

“You have a beautiful cunt Hermione, has anyone ever told you that?”

“N-n-no”

“I figured not, pity really you should hear it from someone as despicable as me.”

She couldn’t answer because the moment his tongue touched her she was light headed with pleasure. Every single cell in her body sprung to life and she could feel the inherent magic of bliss take hold of her insides. Her traitorous body cared not that this man was the bane of her existence, that he was a vile and nasty man that belittled students and professors alike. All it cared about was the pleasure it was bestowing on her being. He feasted on her body’s response to him as she repeatedly and with great enthusiasm climaxed. It was only when he had had his fill did he place her once again on the ground, a long kiss to her stomach before he stood up.

“That was beautiful Hermione. You did very well.”

She blushed at the compliment. She didn’t think that she could blush after what he had done to her but any praise from this taciturn man had a way of feeding the starving child within her that needed that constant acknowledgment.

He stood again and just looked at her then again out into the night sky as if considering his next move. She moved to pick up her clothes when he spoke, stopping her again.

“We’re not done yet Hermione.”

She didn’t think she could be as aroused again so quickly. The sound of his voice and the promise of what to come had her immediately ready for whatever was to come. The war was looming and she didn’t know what the future held, all she knew at that moment was that what little pleasure life had to offer her she was going to take it.

Taking her hand he pulled her to him and wrapped his cloak around her before apparating them away from the forest. Landing softly she realized they were in his quarters at the school. He had not moved to the former headmaster’s quarters as Hermione recognized immediately the damp feel of the dungeons.

“Come,” he commanded as he walked to his bedroom.

He turned and lit a fire in the hearth before slowly removing what was left of her shirt and bra.

“Undress me,” he said as he watched her move to work on the countless buttons that adorned his jacket.

She moved carefully and with precision. Each button was its own accomplishment, slipping softly through the slot. With each inch of crisp which shirt that came into view she grew warmer and more anxious to have him inside her. She pushed the jacket off his shoulders with care not to let the garment fall on the ground. She turned and laid it on the footlocker at the end of the bed and turned back towards him to remove his cravat and shirt. She had never seen such pale skin; he looked like a marble statue she had once seen on a visit to the museum with her parents. By no means muscular, his long lines and definition were exquisite; the scars that adorned his torso were like a roadmap of his tortured life. Hermione wanted to lean in and feel each one, to learn the story behind their existence but she dared not. This was not a story he was ready to tell, let alone to her.

She was here to meet and end.

He was here to do the same.

She pulled the shirt from his trousers and noticed he was still aroused. She tucked her fingers into the placket of his trousers and opened them, letting them fall to the ground, his erection stood strong and proud.

He watched her the whole time. His eyes watching her hands as they moved across his buttons, how they tucked into his shirt and removed it, her finger gliding over his shoulders and arms. He watched as she waited for instruction from him. Her readiness aroused him to no end.

He pulled her to him, letting her skin come in contact with his and she moaned at the warmth of his skin. He buried his face in her neck, “You’re a virgin?”

She nodded, she didn’t think she could speak and ruin the moment.

He bought his hand to her abdomen and whispered a spell. “That should ease the pain, no need to make it painful for you.”

She was touched that he thought enough about her to do that.

Picking her up, and walking her over to his bed he tucked his body snug between her thighs. He knelt and watched her.

“Touch yourself Hermione.”

She didn’t know what he meant at first but didn’t dare ask him.

She moved one hand to cup her breast while the other caressed her folds, feeling the warm wetness of her arousal. She began to rub her clit and find the rhythm she had mastered to maximize her pleasure, as she felt her pleasure rise she closed her eyes only to feel his fingers move inside her.

She opened her eyes and watched him. One hand stroking his cock and the other finding that sweet spot inside her that was sure to make her back arch in pleasure.

“Keep going Hermione, don’t stop. Be a good girl and come for me.”

That was all she needed, she broke apart and as she did she felt him enter her in one swift stroke. There was no pain just fullness. His hands came around her back to grab her shoulders and lift her off the bed as she thrust into her. Her hands around his neck she held on as he pulled her hard onto his cock, each stroke pulling from her moans of absolute pleasure. She had never felt so utterly alive. Each stroke was more pleasurable than the last and she squeezed to keep him in her longer and he growled out in what she hoped was pleasure.

“You fucking minx, do that again and I will have you over my knee.” He moved his hands to her arse and squeezed as he fucked her harder. There was no tenderness, just pure desire. She squeezed him again and he looked right at her and smirked.

“This isn’t over my little minx. Now that I know what you want, this isn’t over.”

He turned her over onto her knees and entered her from behind. He tugged on her hair and pulled on her hips, each thrust stronger than the last, the only sound in the room was their breathing and their bodies meeting with each movement. She was so close; he moved harder and faster, each movement desperate and frantic.

“Come for me Hermione. Take me with you.” Pulling him in her further she climaxed squeezing him and feeling him explode, a guttural scream escaping his mouth as he pulled her up against his chest, his hands at her breasts, his mouth biting down on her shoulder. Her hand pulled his head closer to her, her fingers in his hair as he licked and kissed the bite mark.

They fell onto the bed and slept. There wasn’t a need for words.

Words can sometimes ruin a perfectly good moment.

_--_

Hermione woke back in her tent. Harry and Ronald were discussing a sword and having destroyed the locket. Looking around that everything was in order she found a small phial rolled in parchment hidden in the pocket of her jeans.

_Hermione,_

_You have given a dying man respite._

_I collected your blood, as you well know the benefits of virgin blood when used in or with potions can be very powerful, especially when given freely. It goes without saying that you should use it wisely._

_SS_

She tucked the phial into her bag and never thought of it again. The note however she destroyed. There was no need to leave it where someone would see it.

There was still a battle to fight and she didn’t know what if anything the future held for her.

_--_

Moving towards his body he looked up and watched her pull small phials from her bag. The two boys had left her and she was doing everything she could to stopper the blood and save his miserable life. This poor unfortunate child that had grown up much too quickly was trying to save a life not worth living. He looked up at her amber eyes and wished that he were twenty years younger so he could court her properly. His life had gone to shit on a misguided promise and before he knew better he was too far in to care. Yet now he looked at this minx, this creature and realized he didn’t want to die. He wanted to feel her around him again, watch her quiver under his touch. He wanted to kiss her and hear her moan in ecstasy. Potion after potion was poured onto or into him and he closed his eyes to the pain as it slowly ebbed away. Lastly, she pulled the small bottle he had left her and mixed it with her last potion. He heard her muttering that ‘ _it had to work’_ , that she ‘ _had researched it all’_.  She poured it down his throat and waited.

She smiled softly, her eyes wet but her voice strong, “Come on you miserable bastard. I distinctly remember you saying you weren’t done with me yet.”

 Despite the pain he tried to chuckle. He had underestimated the girl and she had proven him wrong.

Always the know it all.

 


End file.
